The importance of protection
by justtakealookatthis
Summary: A fill to a prompt on the kink meme. Cecil and Carlos have vastly different definitions of 'safe sex'.
1. Chapter 1

The importance of protection part 1/?

Fill from the WtNV kink meme.

Prompt:So Carlos and Cecil finally decide that the next dates the one, they're finally going to go to bed with each other, and decide they want to be safe.  
Cue Carlos's confusion when he turns up to find a strange ritual set up involving cucumbers and a deidric artifact, or a single baby's sock under the pillow, and his inevitable disbelief at a lack of any actual condoms or lube

Sorry, it seems like I can't write a quick ficlet for my life. Bear with me please, it will be finished in three or four more parts!

By the way this is also posted on the Liverjournal WtNV kink meme!

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"**Goodnight, Night Vale. Good night.**"

Cecil put his headphones off and turned off the microphone. He could barely contain himself. After all this was The Night. Carlos (dear, sweet, _perfect_ Carlos) has texted him that morning, asking him if could come over to his place 'for personal reasons'. Finally, his love was ready to commence with the bonding ritual.

Though, he wasn't sure Carlos was aware of the regulations the City council had to put down after the last springtime orgy/bloodbath. Speaking of which, he needed to hurry to get to the Green Market. Supplies don't get themselves, after all ~.

'**Tonight has to be perfect**' sighed Cecil dreamily to himself, as he hurried across the Radio's parking lot.

An hour later found Cecil quietly panicking over just what to wear for such a joyous considered his furry pants, but decided against repeating himself. If things go well, he will have plenty of time to be boring and predictable later, after all.

'**Maybe I should go for something that reflects my love for beautiful, unique Carlos and his perfect hair**.' mused Cecil, waving away The Faceless Woman Who Lived In His House. She was stubbornly insisting on a daringly cut, (though tastefully black) full-body bondage gear (and matching hood). Not that Cecil didn't welcome his housemate's help on most days, but this was an important night, and he wished to show his delightful Carlos how serious his intentions were without the all-consuming lust he would surely inspire in his future mate by wearing his _play clothes_.

In the end he decided to offer a minor sacrifice of rodent teeth to the Lesser God of Fashion. After he completed the ritual, he reached blindly into his closet, grabbing the first few clothes in his reach, as the God dictated.

Now clothed, he quickly set the table, lighting the thick black candle he usually used when sacrificing the tears of orphans( collected and supplied by the Sheriff's Secret Police) at hs bloodstone circle. He didn't have the time to personally slaughter the coyote, whose raw liver they needed to share (as per the City Council's newest list of rules and regulations about romantic dated and human sacrifices), but Old Woman Josie was most accomodating and happily offered him one just as he was leaving the market. She was _such_ a motherly old lady!

Now, that everything was arranged for a perfect romantic night, Cecil needed to do only one, tiny thing, before Carlos arrived. Given that he was the host, performing the The Ritual was his duty (and he had a vague worry in the back of his mind, that lovely Carlos, while being a brilliant scientist, was somewhat...ignorant about the practical necessities of daily life. Why, the other day he asked him, looking completely baffled, why was he wearing a trenchcoat and footie pyjamas to work on every Wednesday!).

After carefully arranging the ingredients around him, he sloowly drew the ceremonial dagger across his wrist. His mouth opened slowly to start the first verse of the warding chant...

And it was in that moment when his doorbell rang.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N:)It's still not the plot, just extra exposition( sorry about the sadness, but Carlos refused to be written the same way as Cecil )**

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Carlos never was someone who could be called a social butterfly. In fact, he spent most of his teenage and young adult years hiding in libraries (and, occasionally, under desks, but thankfully he left high school far behind long ago).

Science was his only real passion in life and after a few diastrous dates(and let's count only those he actually remembered to go to) he decided that love and romantic relationships in general were things that happened to other people.  
He lived his life mostly unnoticed by people, like a really useful, but forgettable shadow.

This, naturally changed the moment he set foot in Night Vale. Cecil took one look at him and that night he gushed about love at first sight on air. Carlos, then unaware of the pecularities of the town, was somewhat annoyed (and secretly flattered) by the unusual amount of attention he received from the smitten man.

Every time he tuned in to the local radio's show, he would hear his name uttered in that sinful, perfect voice he slowly found himself liking more and more.

Time passed and Carlos would call the radio station, the number of which he spied off the message board of **THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE**(how or why it had one? No one one wanted to know.) with ever increasing frequency. He made a point to state 'I'm not calling for personal reasons' every single time he passed whatever new threat he and his ever- dwindling team of scientists happened upon. As the months flew by Carlos slowly came to terms with two things:

1. Five months into his stay he was the sole member of the 15-member research team who was still sane and/or displaying lifelike symptoms (there was some debate over how 'alive' Ashley was, given that she missed her lungs and the majority of her head, but seemed to be rather content shuffling around the outskirts of the town)

2. Cecil was perfect.

Cecil was really, truly perfect.

The first time he stopped by the radio station and met up with the elusive radio host(no he wasn't elusive, Carlos! You were too shy to attend any kind of social gathering!) Carlos found himself breathless at the wonderful blandness of the man before him.

After five months of seeing people who drastically..._changed_, when you glanced at them from the corner your eye? Cecil, who was neither tall, nor short, neither fat, nor thin, with perfectly nondescript eye- and haircolor and a skintone best descibed as 'skin' was the beacon of hope for his sanity.

Their first meeting was a painfully awkward and short affair, with Carlos stammering out his latest findings along with a warning to be broadcast. Cecil seemed just as flustered with his lovely pink-brown- cream-white skin flushing a shade pinker it was before, and mostly gaping wordlessly at him.

They met more often afterwards, though still strictly for 'not personal reasons'. The months flew by, and slowly, but surely Carlos realized that Cecil was someone he would miss greatly, once his assignment was over( that was something he didn't let himself dwell on; he grew so fond of this bizarre town and its inhabitants that leaving felt impossible sometimes).

Then it happened. On the one-year anniversary of his arrival he nearly died.

As he realized that the civilization of miniature people were far more dangerous than they looked like, he couldn't help, but wish he could have met up with Cecil just for fun at least once. As he laid on the ground bleeding from rocket-induced wounds, he wished to see Cecil's comfortingly bland face again (he NEVER looked at Cecil from the corner of his eye. Carlos may have been a scientist, but he needed to cling to the only speck of normalcy he found in Night Vale, even if it was just a well-told lie) . He wished to know the secrets lying under his (partner?crush?love?) friend's skin. In that moment Carlos stopped fearing the answers he would get to his questions.

In that moment, when it seemed too late for him to realize anything, Carlos realized he was in love.

Later, when, due to the valiant sacrifice of the Apache Tracker he was saved and somewhat patched up,  
he sent one of the townspeople around him to the radio station. The bowling alley had the radio on and the grief and sheer unprofessional( and uncharacteristic)horror in Cecil's voice was more than he could bear.

Sadly, he wasn't quite in good enough shape to be running around. Limping slowly, however, was an option. He pulled out his mobile phone with shaky hands and quickly punched in a message to Cecil.

"**After theee end of how met in Arbys paking lott"**

His eyes blurred slightly with fatigue and blood loss, but he refused to deal with this nonsense, before he saw Cecil.

Cecil, who mourned him. Cecil, who cried for him. Cecil, who loved him all this time.

Carlos wanted to cry. For the first time in his life he had someone loving him and he already caused so much grief to Cecil.

He sat on the hood of his car(he parked here, before heading over to the bowling alley, due to the carnivorous wormholes that dwelled in said institution's parking lot). Soon, he heard Cecil's excited voice chiming in the crisp night air.

'What is it?' He said. 'What danger are we in?! What mystery needs to be explored?'

Carlos shook his head.'Nothing,' he said. 'After everything that happened I just wanted to see you.'

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**(A/N:)That's it for now. I promise to move on the actual plot as soon as the next chapter(or am I? *evil **

**laughter*)**


End file.
